Explanations
by Terias Mcklay
Summary: Starbuck can't quite place whose bed she ended up in. Pre-Cylon attack. Femslash Starbuck/?


Disclaimers: No profits are being made, the characters don't belong to me. This is also unbetaed.

The warm stream of light roused a sleeping Kara Thrace into semi-wakefulness. The position of said stray, directly in her face rather than across her chest from the right, told her -without even being fully conscious- that she was somewhere other than her apartment.

Again.

She waited to open her eyes, knowing that the taste in her mouth -combined with the steady throb behind her eyes- meant she was in full hangover mode.

Sunlight and loud noises were to be avoided for as long as humanly possible.

The Viper pilot mentally took stock of her body. She was…sore. An all over, full body, sore. The good kind, like that of a rigorous workout. The type that left one lethargic and inclined to stay snuggled in bed.

Not the kind Kara Thrace was used to.

Her usual full body sore was from one too many hits on the pyramid court. Or the occasional hard landing when she was trying to guide her Viper VII through the chop that was Caprica's atmosphere.

Those were Kara's kind of sores, ones that had you waking up in traction, not in a soft bed.

The blonde pilot searched her memory for the identity of the source of the 'oh-so-good' tightness in her muscles. Evidently, whoever she had picked up, or perhaps more correctly let pick her up, had skills.

Curious as to who said 'skilled' person could be, Kara tentatively opened her eyes, rolling over on to her side to shield her raw senses from direct sunlight. The shapely form of her apparent lover came into her vision.

The woman had her back turned to Kara, curled tightly around her pillow, well shaped muscles standing out in stark relief against tan skin. Rich brown hair fell to the side revealing the curve of a shoulder that even now, sober as a Kobolian priestess, had Kara licking her lips.

Well then.

At least she had gone home with someone attractive. Many a night, drunk on whatever she could afford, Kara had managed to find herself in bed with someone… less than appealing.

The pilot closed her eyes mentally reviewing the night before. She was on a three day leave pass and she had gone to some dive bar off of Athens Street to celebrate her temporary return to Caprica City.

Not that she was particularly happy to be back. Her apartment was a wreck and she hated being surrounded by a bunch of civvies who lived on top of each other. She just hadn't wanted to go out and get trashed without a modicum of an excuse.

She remembered sidling up to the bartender and asking for the triple distilled Ambrosia. Celebrations, imagined or not, warranted nothing but the best liquor.

The bartender had set down the glass and she had simply reached for the bottle, slapping down the cubits to cover it along with a respectable tip. She planned on getting drunk so there was no reason to keep up pretences. This way she saved herself the trips back to the bar.

Kara had grabbed the glass and along with her bottle she had gone to find herself a seat near the dart board. If she could find someone stupid enough to play with her, she would be able to drink the rest of the night away on someone else's dime.

She had been halfway through the bottle and well on the way to drunk when a figure had approached her from the other side of the bar.

It was here that Kara's memory stuttered, she remembered the feeling of familiarity but the face of the person was eluding her. Being that she really didn't have any friends, other than the Galactica crew, Kara reasoned that either the woman was a crewmate of some kind or someone she had gone home with before.

She didn't usually do repeats but nothing was impossible, especially given that she vaguely remembered finishing off the bottle of Ambrosia with little help from her companion.

That explained the hangover from Hades.

How she had gotten to wherever she was now was a complete blank. Her memory had her sitting in the bar -a warm weight settled in her lap as she shared her cigar- then she was in bed, the other woman moving against her with skilful intent.

The memory loss didn't concern Kara, it wasn't as if she was missing the good parts.

She remembered the feel of soft lips on her neck as she had strained her back in an attempt increase the friction between her center and her companion's muscled thigh. She was certain she had licked her way to said thigh at some point, passing a Colonial Fleet tattoo on her journey downward.

That explained the feeling of familiarity. A crewmate.

What it didn't explain was why she hadn't had an encounter with the woman before. She usually had no qualms about bedding anyone, command structure be damned. And it was obvious the woman was attractive even in Kara's sobriety. Why hadn't the pilot had the woman before?

Though if Kara had any say in it, considering her lover's skills, she would certainly be having the brunette again.

Kara's bedmate rolled over with a yawn and a stretch and looked at Kara from warm brown eyes. The Viper pilot's eyes widened as her mind identified the woman in front of her.

Ah, now that did explain why Kara hadn't bedded her before. Frak.

Images of a man flashed through Kara's brain. A man she considered a friend and, perhaps more importantly, a man who regularly checked that her Viper VII was fly worthy.

Kara wasn't the brightest sun in the solar system. Despite that, she knew that pissing off the person who kept your ass in the air rather than plummeting planetside was not what could be considered a good idea.

And that was precisely what Kara was about to do.

No way was she going to give up a bedmate this skilled without a fight. Even if the kid was one of the Galactica rooks.

"Morning L.T." Sharon said, giving the blonde a satisfied, if slightly sleepy, smirk.

"Morning Boomer," Kara said reaching out for the Raptor pilot.

Oh yeah, the Chief was going to kill her.


End file.
